Fairytale
by Suni Daughter of Moro
Summary: Fanfic inspired by an overdose of "Fairytale" by Alexander Rybak which I wrote at 4 AM. Denmark reflecting on his relationship with Norway in a very stream-of-consciousness fashion. Denmark x Norway


I know it's not like me to get sentimental. It's uncool, you know? Gushing your feelings all over the place. Honestly, if you want to gush, you should do it the cool way and stab yourself - blood's way more awesome than feelings. But since I'm sitting here, completely miserable and on my nineth... tenth... no, eleventh glass of Linie akvavit, and have no knife in sight, you're going to have to deal with me spilling my guts in the emotional sense, okay? Please don't tell Sverige; I don't want him to think any less of me as a man.

When we were kids, it was all good. I'd hang around him and even though he didn't seem to like me much he at least put up with me, you know? Oh, I'm not talkin' about Sverige anymore; this is Norge I'm talking about now. We'd talk sometimes and I just liked being around him, even if he always had that really weird blank look on his face and he didn't usually say much. I had a lot of fun with Norge when we were kids and... well... that's when I developed my crush...

Yeah, I know. A cool guy like me with a crush on a quiet weirdo like Norge? Since when does that kind of thing happen? Well, the simple answer is - since me and Norge were kids.

When I finally got up the courage to tell him I liked him, he just stared at me blankly and nodded softly. At first, I didn't think he understood me, so I told him that what I meant was-- He didn't even let me finish my statement.

"I know," he said bluntly. A moment of silence passed. He corrected himself, "I've known."

I just stood there utterly speechless with my mouth hanging open like a dead herring waiting to be bought at market. "How long have you known?" I wanted to ask. "How do you feel about me?" I wanted to ask. "How the hell can you just sit there and act like this is no big deal dammit?" I wanted to _scream_. However, I didn't. I just stood there with my big fat mouth hanging open. Norge said nothing at all. It was very... _very_ awkward.

It wasn't much later, though, that Norge joined the Kalmar Union with me and we got a little closer. He still didn't talk much and he wasn't very big on personal contact either but I got the feeling that, even if he wasn't quite willing to _return_ my feelings, he was at least willing to _accept_ them. I was happy then, especially because I could run around telling everyone that Norge was mine and he never disputed it. I liked that alot. I liked being able to call him mine, even if he never hugged me, or kissed me, or touched me. It was like... just being able to say that without having him dismiss it as a lie made it true.

After Sverige dropped out of the Union, I feel like me and Norge got closer. He actually started talking to me a bit and sometimes, when I hugged him, he'd slowly reach his hands up and place them awkwardly around my shoulders. Even if it was awkward, it was still awesome. I loved having contact with him. Anything I could get out of the little weirdo was good enough for me. Sure, even then, it wasn't the relationship I wanted, but I was willing to take what I got.

Beggars can't be choosers, my friend.

Things were great... until that damned war happened. Thanks to my alliance with Frankrig and his stupid boss, I had to give up Norge. And so my love went to live with Sverige. Damn Frankrig. Damn Sverige. Thanks to them, things changed forever.

It was a while before I saw Norge again and when I finally did, his attitude toward me had changed. It was no longer, "I'll hug you back when you throw your arms around me," or even, "I may not necessarily _like_ what you do to me but I'll _tolerate it _to a certain extent." No, now it was "Get off," or, "Leave me alone," or, "Dammit Danmark." Our relationship had changed forever. Thank you so damn much, God. I mean really, were you not getting enough amusement from making Napoleon your joke on Frankrig? Did you _really_ have to turn him into a joke on _me_ too and ruin my damned _life_?

Things just got more difficult from there. We had our disagreements... and even a few fights. Sometimes I wondered if it was really worth continuing to try. But then I'd see him and my heart would just skip a beat.

Ugh, I feel so disgustingly girly saying that.

Things grew more and more tense over time until Norge moved out of Sverige's place and got a home of his own. One night, sick of all the fighting and more than a little tipsy, I dragged my nearly comatose ass over to Norge's and once again told him exactly how I felt.

Again, I got that same blank stare. "I know," he said. A little pause. "I've known." Another pause. "We've had this conversation before, you know."

Now, honestly, I don't know what the hell happened after that but it was something big, because when I woke up the next morning with the most massive hangover in all of history, I wasn't wearing anything... and neither was Norge... and we were both in his bed together.

Now, you'd think sleeping together would have changed things, right? That we would have started dating like normal people do... or at least stopped fighting and tried to get along... No way. Not with Norge. The fact that we'd slept together just seemed to make him get irritated with me even easier. I was still always hearing those same frustrated responses. "Get off," he'd say. "Leave me alone," he'd growl. "Dammit Danmark," he'd snap. I tried to talk to him about what happened but he didn't want to talk about it. Every time I went over to his place at night to try and talk things over, I'd leave the next morning, wearing the same clothes as the night before and having no answers. Yeah, while we continued to fight during the day, we still managed to sleep together another two or three dozen times, which always somehow made us fight even more the next day.

I got used to it though. And to be honest, I think maybe the whole "hate you by day, love you by night" thing became a bit of a turn-on for me. However, I kept hoping that one day we'd have a normal relationship.

Eventually, our days mellowed out. We weren't fighting as much anymore. And our nights were still alot of fun. But still, with all we've been through, would it kill him to just once - JUST ONCE - say he loves me?

Apparently.

The reason I'm on my... fifteenth... glass of Linie akvavit now is because I went to pay Norge a visit tonight. For a third time, I told him that I liked him.

"I know," he said. Pause. "I've known," he said. Pause. "We've had this conversation twice before now."

"Well, how do you feel about it?" I demanded, more than a little irritated. "I've told you three times now and you've never told me once. I don't care what the answer is, just tell me now - what am I to you?"

All I got was that blank stare. That emotionless, blank stare.

So I stormed out, went home, and started drinking. That's how I ended up here, spilling my guts to you all.

"Danmark." Is that...? It is. Norge's here. Oh boy. Just what I need after seventeen drinks - a confrontation with the man who sent me off into the binge in the first place.

"What do you want?" I demand with a bit of a slur. Seventeen glasses of Linie will do that to you, if it doesn't make you comatose or kill you first, that is. He doesn't answer. I fight off the urge to look at him. I know what I'll see and I don't want to see it. I don't want to see that emotionless face staring straight through me.

"Danmark," he repeats as I pour myself my eighteenth drink. His voice is louder than before. He must have come closer to me. I try to tune him out and take a sip from my glass. "Danmark," I hear him call again. This time, he's right here. He's standing right next to me... and I can't help but look up. Without a word, he kisses me. His lips taste even better than his alcohol, which is obviously saying something, seeing as I've consumed seventeen and a half glasses of the stuff tonight alone. I find myself kissing him back, despite my urge to break away and demand an answer to the question I asked him earlier. I know where this is leading. It's the same place it always leads. But, even though I'd like things to change, I can't be bothered to try and stop it. As much as I don't like things the way they are, they aren't necessarily bad. Maybe this is just the price I have to pay for being crazy enough to love such a weirdo. If it is, then I'll gladly accept the penalty. If it's not, then I'll keep working on this relationship until it's normal and we'll have a brand new start together. But for tonight, this is fine. I don't need answers tonight.


End file.
